


Paperwork

by BlueColoredDreams



Series: String Theory [13]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Desk Sex, F/M, Office Sex, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 19:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: It's just another day at the Bureau.Magnus fails at paperwork; Lucretia teases him. Neither of them get anything done.





	Paperwork

**Author's Note:**

> Happy new year! Have some porn.  
> Will Magnus and Lucretia ever get to have sex without someone/something interrupting them? Who knows, find out in 2018 y'all.

Magnus sneaks into her office without asking or knocking—she hadn’t even realized he was  _ on _ base. She just looks up one quiet Wednesday afternoon, and there he is, relocking her office door behind him.  

Lucretia tries not to laugh, but it’s hard not to as he presses a finger to his lips and shushes her before she even speaks. “And what do I owe the pleasure, Magnus?” 

“I’m hiding,” he says, holding a folio of papers. He walks around to her side of the desk and presses a soft kiss to her lips. “I’m really excited to see you again, but if anyone comes looking, I am  _ not _ here.” 

And he plops down beside her chair, his spreading his papers onto his crossed legs. She watches him for a moment, then laughs. “Didn’t do your paperwork, huh?” she teases, reaching out to ruffle his hair. 

“Mmhhmn,” Magnus hums, licking his thumb to turn a page in the thick packet. “Shit, this is a  _ lot _ . I just want to give people dogs, Luce.” 

Lucretia passes him a pen and watches as he begins to scrawl his way through the comically large packet of paperwork. “I do think that Leon is picking on you, dear,” she says in amusement. “I don’t even think we  _ have _ fifty-nine dispensation forms, much less that you need to fill out all of them.” 

Magnus looks up at her in horror. “ _ What _ . What did I ever do to deserve being bullied? I’ve already done five of these.” 

“…Magnus,” Lucretia says dryly. “Did you honestly, in all seriousness, ask me what you  _ did  _ that would make  _ Leon  _ want to bully you?” 

“It was Taako, mostly, in my defense,” Magnus mutters. “Forreal.” 

“Mm, sure, but you’re an easy target, love,” she chuckles. “Five down, fifty four to go. Once you’ve worked through all those, I’ll have Brad check up to make sure you’re not getting put through more hoops than absolutely necessary.” 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, kissing her palm softly. 

“Oh, don’t thank me,” Lucretia laughs, patting his cheek. “There’ll still be hoops. I can’t play favorites  _ too much _ , you know.” 

Magnus groans and turns to the next page of bureaucratic hell. 

She finds herself petting through his hair idly as the time goes on. First, it’s to brush a small lock of it from his eyes, the motion of him continually flipping it out of his face distracting her from her own paperwork. Then, because her hands began to ache, and finally, just because his hair is soft, and his head is right there at her knee. It’s been weeks since they’ve really been able to sit and settle down together in quiet companionship—everything’s gotten so busy lately, and it’s so calming to have him beside her and her hand in his hair.  

He hums quietly, off tune, and she leans her cheek against her free hand; she keeps her gaze on her papers, trying to read, but she skims the same passage of a building cost report four times before she realizes she’s not even reading at all. 

She sighs quietly; Magnus echoes the sound and lays his cheek against her knee. 

She runs her nails gently against his scalp, then smoothes a small circle with her fingers. 

Magnus gives a soft groan. He reaches up and grabs her hand, kissing her knuckles softly. “Lucy, you’re gonna drive me nuts here,” he murmurs against her skin. 

“Mm? I’m not sure what you mean,” she says. She looks down at Magnus and smiles at the light flush across his cheeks and the way his eyelashes flutter as he blinks. She cups his cheek and rubs her thumb against the arc of his cheek, smiling as a burst of mischievousness bubbles through her. 

Magnus rolls his eyes despite the grin that tugs his lips up against her touch. She smoothes her fingers through his hair again, pushing his bangs back from his forehead. 

He turns his face against her knee, angling his body closer to her, one hand slipping under the hem of her skirt to curl around her bare calf. “You know,” he whispers. 

“This?” she asks, rubbing her thumb against his temple. “Oh, yes… that’s right,” she chuckles.  “You like it when I play with your hair.” 

Magnus rests his chin atop her knee, fingers gently tugging her foot forward. He tugs her shoes off and sets them behind him as he rubs his thumb against her ankle. Lucretia combs through his hair, gently rubbing a strand of it between her thumb and forefinger. 

They both know that  _ like  _ is an understatement, in certain circumstances. And this is shockingly similar to the circumstances that find him on his knees and begging for her. It brings warmth into his belly and to his face. 

“Lucretia, honey,” he murmurs, almost pleading. 

It’s been at least a few weeks since they’ve indulged in each other, and it makes her feel weak with the way pleasure shoots its way from her stomach to her toes and fingers. She smiles down at him and pushes her fingers through his hair, raking it back from his forehead to tip his head up towards her. She leans down and kisses the tip of her nose. “Magnus, darling,” she teases. 

He grins up at her, tickling the soft skin behind her knee. “You sure, dear?” he says, a laugh coloring the edges of his words. 

Lucretia jolts and giggles; she leans back into her chair and tosses her knee over his shoulder, fist tightening into his hair. 

“Of course, love,” she murmurs, breath jumping in anticipation. 

He groans against her thigh and reaches for the edge of her desk chair, tugging it closer to him. 

He rises to his knees between her thighs, hiking up the silk of her skirt to grip her thighs as she leans down to kiss him. 

She pulls his hair and drapes her other leg across his shoulder. He hooks his thumbs into the band of her underwear and pulls it down. She huffs against his open mouth and puts her feet back down so she can kick them off, letting them fall somewhere under her desk. She wiggles her feet  at Magnus, and he laughs. 

Lucretia pouts down at him, then gasps as he lifts her skirt and disappears under the fabric. He lifts her thighs up over his shoulders, kissing a gentle line up each that makes her shiver and lean back in her chair. She cants her hips up towards him, aching already for his mouth. 

“I can’t grab you,” she complains, voice cracking as he runs a gentle finger over her folds. 

“That’s the point,” Magnus murmurs against her. He kisses her gently, before he’s even begun to part her open, warm and gentle. 

She squirms, toes curling slowly in anticipation as he teases her with slow kisses, his tongue darting out just enough to slick her with saliva so he can start to circle her clit with a gentle finger. Before long, he slips his touch down to her entrance and draws up her slickness. 

And then he uses two fingers, one to either side of her clit. She moans and clenches her fingers tight on the armrest of her chair as she twitches up into him, pushing her hips up to his fingers. Her thighs tense against his cheeks. 

He slides his fingers away from her clit, then seals his mouth over it instead. He gives her a soft suck, and as she jerks up into him, he slips his fingers inside of her. He flicks his tongue against her at the same time he angles his fingers up to catch against her as he draws back. 

She moans and arches forward, hands grabbing at the shape of him through her skirt. Her heels dig into his back as he repeats the gesture. She tries to close her thighs against him, draw him closer since she can’t grip at his hair, but he presses her open with the flat of his palm. It barely even feels like he’s using any strength at all to push against her efforts; heat swoops into the pit of her stomach and she pulses against his fingers. 

Magnus laughs against her, flexing his fingers against her thigh to adjust his grip, lifting her leg a bit further away from his cheek. 

Lucretia groans and twitches around his fingers. She’s caught between hunching forward to try and grab hold of Magnus, and leaning back into his mouth. 

Magnus slides his mouth down and spreads his fingers open, and she falls back as his tongue slips into her as he draws his hand back. The chair squeaks in protest as her head knocks back against the headrest, and she returns to gripping the armrests as tight as she can as he fucks into her with his tongue. Both hands grasp her thighs, holding her legs up and apart now—one leaves slick marks that chill her skin as he adjusts his hold. 

“Magnus, please.” 

She’s not sure he’s teasing her or giving her relief when he lets go of her thigh—both, she decides hazily, it’s both. Magnus presses his thumb firmly against her clit, giving her a split second of the pressure she needs to reach orgasm. But then, he stops moving entirely—Magnus waits, tongue still inside of her and thumb against her. 

Lucretia swears vehemently. 

“Magnus,” she gasps, trying to push herself up against him. She doesn’t have enough purchase to fuck his face like she needs to—just shallow circling against his touch. As it is, the chair squeaks and rolls back a little more each time she tries. “ _ Please, _ ” she repeats. 

Magnus hauls her forward again, first by her legs, nearly dragging her off of the chair. He quickly reaches down and pulls the chair itself forward, until his nose presses against her pubic mound. He draws his tongue back, circles her entrance slowly, his thumb mimicking the motion on her clit, before pressing back into her. 

Lucretia presses her heel firmly to the center of his back, arching into him harder and harder until she breaks, crying out as she circles against his mouth as heat pulses through her. She sinks back into the chair, limp and panting as Magnus pulls back. 

He runs his tongue from her entrance to her clit, then presses a series of soft kisses to the sensitive flesh that has her whimpering and clenching her thighs against his face. He laughs and nuzzles against her thighs, each in turn, kissing down to her knees before he draws out from under her skirt. 

She peeks down at him, feeling her face flush at the sight of him, red-cheeked, short of breath, and slick-lipped. 

He stands, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, grinning at her as she cranes her neck back. She gasps weakly, still trembling as he kisses the top of her head, then her forehead, down. 

He cups her jaw and kisses her hungrily, tongue swiping deep into her mouth. She tastes herself on him; she grabs his face between her palms and kisses him harder as she rises from her chair to the tips of her toes, pushing him back up against her desk. She resists the urge to push him down and crawl up on him, knowing she doesn’t have the strength to do it now that she’s wobbly-limbed and fuzzy from orgasm; maybe later. 

She grips his shirt instead, then drags her hands down his stomach to his hips. He drops one hand, gripping the small of her back as her skirts fall back into place around her legs. 

She palms over him once, giving his erection a very gentle squeeze before she begins to unlace his pants, licking over the roof of his mouth. He slips his hand down further and grabs her ass, lifting her up against him as he squeezes. She gasps, a soft noise of pleasure and surprise. He spreads his fingers and presses between the crease of her cheeks through her robes and feels her heat through the silky fabric. 

She rocks against him, almost unbalanced—he’s lifted her to the very tips of her toes, holding her there. She pushes his pants down, then slides her hands up his shirt, rucking it up above his belly. She squeezes his sides and draws back from their kiss, grinning lazily as she pets over his sides. 

He grins against her mouth and puts both of his hands on her waist. 

“Magnus?” she asks, voice rough and sweet. 

He turns them swiftly, then spins her and pushes her forward, bending her over her desk. She squeaks, then groans as he lifts her skirt and spreads her thighs apart. 

“This good,  _ Madame _ ?” he teases, running a finger along the wet crease of her, clit to entrance. 

“Shit,” she gasps, laughing hoarsely as he sinks his middle finger into her. “ _ Oh _ —”

He hooks his finger, rubbing into her. He presses his hand to the flat of her shoulders, keeping her down as she stretches her hands out to grab hold of something. She curls her fingers around the edge of her desk, knees trembling as Magnus thrusts his fingers. 

He leans over her, slipping his ring finger in as well. He presses deep, hard, and then draws back, watching as she stretches and trembles under his palm. 

“Magnus, Mags—I can’t,” she babbles, twisting her head to press her cheek to her desk. Her knees already ache from the awkward angle of having to drop her weight to hold herself at the right position to line them up. “I won’t be able—”

He draws his fingers out and grabs her; he presses his hips to her and leans over her. He kisses the side of her neck and rocks forward, knocking the desk with the movement. “Mm, you’re right, the angle’s not quite right,” he murmurs. 

He draws back and sinks into her chair. He strokes himself slowly as he watches her struggle to her feet and turn, her skirt falling back over her thighs. There’s a line of ink against her cheek and the silk of her dress robes are rumpled beyond what’s decent. Lucretia leans back against her desk, chest heaving as she pants, the perfect picture of someone in the middle of being wrecked.  

Magnus grins at her and pats his thigh. “C’mere, then.” 

“Magnus, now you’re just being  _ mean _ ,” she whines. “That’s not—we’ll break that.” 

Magnus laughs. “Then how do you want it, Madame?” 

She presses her palms against the edge of her desk and hoists herself up, balling her skirt up into her fingers as she spreads herself out before him. 

“This will have to do,” she says, trying hard not to sound smug at the way Magnus’ mouth parts or the way he twitches against his stomach at the sight of her. 

He puts his hands on her knees and rises, fingers skimming up her thighs as he kisses her. She leans back, licking her lips as he takes himself back in hand and presses into her. She digs her nails against her desk, gasping as he eases into her in a series of shallow thrusts. 

“Okay?” he murmurs against her neck, nosing aside her collar to kiss her pulse. It jumps under his lips as she groans. She hooks her ankles against the back of his thighs, hips canting up into his own. 

“Yes, gods,” she breathes. 

He grabs her hips and pulls back, then thrusts into her hard. She inhales sharply as she skids back against the desk, fingers grabbing onto anything as he repeats the motion. Something clatters to the floor and rolls away from the desk; the movement of Magnus’ hips knocks over her inkwells and the small vase of quills she keeps. She can’t quite bring herself to care, not with the way he’s finally fucking her. 

She balls up papers into her fists, falling back onto her elbows as she pushes up, up, harder into each thrust of Magnus’, urging him deeper inside of her. 

“Shh, shh, those are important,” Magnus scolds, pausing his movements to pry her fists open. “Hold onto me, now.” 

He puts her arms around his neck, drawing her upright against him. She grabs a fistful of hair, her other hand grabbing at his shoulder as he spreads a wide palm against the small of her back, holding her tight to him. It’s not as deep, but Magnus makes up for it with friction. 

Lucretia twists the fabric of his shirt in her fingers, and drops her head to his shoulder, pressing her face up hard against his neck. She curls her toes tight, her body growing taut with pleasure. His skin is hot and damp against her mouth as she pants hard. 

Mangus grunts against her hair, jerking her up into his hips. “Lucretia—”

Lucretia tightens her thighs against his hips, shuddering as he pounds into her. “Magnus,” she pleads. 

He groans and leans forward, dropping her back onto the desk as he bends over her. His hands grasp her hips under her skirt and pull her into his thrusts. She squirms, nails raking against the wood of her desk as she tips into a second orgasm. Her hands latch onto his wrists, gripping him as he fucks her through each wave of pleasure. 

Magnus pauses, letting her work herself on him, his face twisted and pink with pleasure. She reaches up and pulls him down, rolling herself up on him. She tightens herself around him, shivering at the heightened pleasure and the feeling of their combined wetness beginning to dampen the insides of her thighs. 

“C’mon,” she urges, tugging on his hair as his face contorts in pleasure. He shakes and whimpers and she rolls up against him again. “Please?” 

“Fuck,” he swears, and jerks inside of her. He pulls out mid-orgasm, slicking the crease of her thighs with her own fluids and semen. She shivers at the mess, petting Magnus’s hair idly. 

“I’ll clean you up, sorry,” he whispers hoarsely, pressing his face to her neck. Lucretia squirms under him, and he pushes her skirts up further, trying to save them from the mess. “Just, just a moment,” he breathes, smoothing his hand up and down the side of her thigh. 

She kisses his temple, feeling languidly molten under his attention. “Shhh, I can just—”

He grabs her hand and kisses it mid-spell, cutting her off from their usual cantrip. “Mm-mnh, I made you a mess, I can clean it up,” he whispers, a bit of mischief twinkling in his eyes. 

He pulls back and Lucretia rises onto her elbows, grinning crookedly. “I think there’s a few tea towels with the kettle,” she murmurs. 

“Don’t need ‘em,” Magnus says before winking and dropping to his knees. 

Lucretia gasps as he runs his tongue over the drying patches of come on her thighs. Her cry is cut off into a high moan as he seals his mouth over her and slips his tongue inside. He laps up the mess off her with his hands on the tops of her thighs, thumbs running slow circles against her skin like he’s not picking apart the last few threads of composure she has. His fingers crook up into her next, pretense of cleaning her forgotten as he works her into a third orgasm that’s sharp and violent, her voice high and her limbs jerking with the intensity of it. 

He draws back, mouth and sideburns sticky and his cheeks pink as Lucretia nearly sobs. “I missed a spot,” he murmurs, mouth turning into a grin. 

“No,” she complains, pushing her foot on his chest. “Down! Down, boy.” 

Magnus kisses her calf, nuzzling against her skin softly. “Right there,” he teases, reaching out to tap the tendon in her inner thigh. She pushes against him with her foot again and gestures with her hand, and like that, his face and her thighs are clean and dry. She slides slowly off the desk and into Magnus’ arms. 

Papers and a small avalanche of paper clips follow the movement, and Magnus laughs and kisses her forehead. He gently smoothes her skirt back around her legs as she reaches for him and tucks his cock back into his pants; she doesn’t bother with the laces—her hands are trembling too much to even try. 

Magnus gently peels her cardigan off of her and balls it up under the foot space of her desk, guiding them down, side by side on the floor. 

“Hey there,” he says fondly, tucking a stray curl of hair behind her ear. It springs back into place and he chuckles, running a knuckle against her sweaty temple. “I was supposed to be doing paperwork.” 

“Likewise,” she replies, rubbing her nose to his. 

Magnus laughs, drawing her closer. He presses his hand to the center of her back, kissing her languidly. “Oops.” 

“You were distracting,” Lucretia murmurs between kisses. 

“Me?” he laughs. “I was distracting? Says you.” 

“I said so,” she retorts. She rests her cheek against his bicep, running a fond hand across his cheek. “I’ll grant us both extensions.” 

“Director’s perks, huh?” he teases, nuzzling her again. He kisses her lazily, until they both drift off into a half-sleeping state, lazily trading kisses and small smiles in between closed eyes and quiet breaths. 

The lazy calm is interrupted by the rattle of the doorknob, then a knock. 

Lucretia jerks upright, knocking her head against the underside of the desk. 

“Careful!” Magnus laughs, hunching up to sit upright without doing the same. “The door’s locked, don’t worry.” 

“Hush, it only works if whoever it is can’t hear us,” Lucretia whispers. 

Magnus snorts. “Uh, I think anyone in the hall could have heard us.” 

She gives him a look and he shrugs. “Just saying.” 

Lucretia shushes him again as the knob rattles again. She casts a small spell to amplify the sound. 

“I bet you anything her door’s locked for a  _ reason _ .” 

“Hush, Kils, we gotta turn in this paperwork today or Brad’s gonna make all the coffee decaf for a week. I’m not losing this bet; I’m picking the lock.” 

Lucretia looks at Magnus, eyes wide. Magnus stares back at her, his face a twin mask of surprise until his mouth starts to twitch. She shakes her head, putting her finger to her lips. 

She draws her knees closer to her chest, up underneath the desk. She swats Magnus’ knee. 

He gestures at her, then at the length of his own legs. “I’m not gonna fit,” he whispers. 

“Shhhh!” Lucretia says, wedging herself more firmly into the corner. “Shh!” 

The lock clicks and Lucretia grabs Magnus’ shirt collar and tugs him forward, even as he begins to snicker. She shoves a hand over his mouth and he wiggles his eyebrows at her; she snorts once and then gently smacks him with her free hand. 

“See there’s no reason it’s locked she’s not even in heeer—‘ello…  _ ooooooookay _ ,” Carey drawls as Killian groans. “Well.” 

Lucretia grips Magnus’ wrist as he jerks his legs up underneath the desk with them. “See?” he whispers against her ear. 

“ _ Shh _ !” Lucretia attempts to glare at him, but he drops a quick kiss against her mouth. 

“I am putting this paperwork on this desk that I  _ know isn’t totally trashed  _ in this empty office that belongs to the  _ Director of the Bureau of Benevolence _ ,” Carey says loudly. “Who isn’t totally hiding under her desk with someone  _ who should have better checks than this _ !” 

There’s a  _ thwap  _ of paper as Carey sets her files down. “But I’m also totally filing for monetary compensation for this horror-show. Really, we get in trouble for smooching on the job!” 

“Sorry!” Magnus says from under the desk. 

Lucretia jabs him in the ribs. 

“We’re clothed at least!” he protests. “C’mon!” 

“Boss lady is uh… Yeah, uh, not, uh. Completely,” Killian says from the door. “Which… I hate that I know this. Thanks.” 

“Shit, I think your panties are still on your desk,” Magnus mouths against her lips. 

Lucretia cradles her face in her hands. “You two are free to leave early for a month and uh, no Saturday shifts, just don’t tell anyone!” 

“ _ Score _ ! Bye, we’ll lock the door back for ya,” Carey laughs. 

The door closes loudly, and the lock clicks back into place; afterwards, there’s a long beat of awkward silence. 

“Well, I won’t be able to look them in the eye for a good three months,” Lucretia groans.

Magnus bursts into laughter that shakes his entire body next to her and echoes in the cramped foot space.  

“Nah, like, I caught ‘em at it once, and it was way raunchier than what they just caught, let me tell you! Always knock on their door.  _ Always _ . Anyway, I give you like… maybe three days,” Magnus says, drawing her into his lap and resting his chin on her forehead. “Since they locked the door back… you wanna…?” 

Lucretia sighs and leans back into him, closing her eyes as she rolls them. “How about we go to an actual  _ bed _ ? In one of our actual  _ homes _ ?” 

“…as long as you don’t make me do paperwork to go off-base for third base, I’m down.” 

Lucretia tries to give a long suffering sigh, but snorts instead. “Deal.” 


End file.
